


Darcy, Minus Talking. Apocalypse?

by janedra



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Phil Coulson Has the Patience of a Saint, Silence, until he doesn't
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-03-22 01:34:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3709933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janedra/pseuds/janedra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil is always in control, for the most part.<br/>What would make him completely unhinge?<br/>Maybe dying, maybe Darcy, maybe both.</p><p>No angst, just striking their match to see what happens!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Viva la Darcy & Phil fic!  
> I wrote this forever ago, am posting as I finish the last few chapters because holy damn I still love this pair like burning.
> 
> Set in: Post 'Rise from the ashes!Phil,' mostly ignoring cannon and ships from S.H.E.I.L.D. because... all I want to do is play with these two, basically.
> 
> Enjoy!

“You know I’m bad at communication, it’s the hardest things for me to do.”  
Haim

 

He heard the soft footsteps almost as soon as they began trailing behind him and winced inwardly as he realized which hallway he had just passed.

“You know... you would make a better geisha than a ninja in those heels.”

Her singular delight was evident in the prompt acceleration of her pace. Phil was apparently in a mood to spar and he almost never was, to his junior agent’s chagrin. Or, he never let himself. There is a difference.

He immediately regretted acknowledging her presence, much less baiting her with a cheeky remark. He was better than this. Or rather- he wasn’t, which was why he found himself in need of strict boundaries around this one. Big ones. 

Finding himself wholly contemptible, he began walking faster and even brushed past an agent headed in the same direction as they turned a corner, but it was no use- he could already feel the fabric of her skirt tap against his pants leg, up above his knee. Likely the short, kicky green one he had seen on her a few times before. Maybe even remembered the feel of, right there on the side of his thigh. He tightened his placid expression as he ever so slightly lifted his chin in a physical cue to himself- he should not be looking down in the next few minutes. 

Just as subtly, his eyes ticked to the right, caught by those eyes of mirth and a careful grin. 

Or ever. Probably never. He had seen enough clothes in his life. His fingers twitched as he resisted an impulse to tighten the knot of his tie as he walked. 

He was already losing this engagement and she had yet to utter a word. A first. Phil practiced a look of serene boredom as a string of curses began to float behind his teeth- all directed inward.

Darcy reached up to brush invisible lint off of his shoulder as they walked, her grin stretching wider as they approached the elevator at the end of the hall and her silence floated around them. Phil needed to un-entangle himself from this with haste. He was outmatched today and she could smell it. Hell, she was practically rolling around in it like a bulldog on a grassy lawn.

His mind was screaming out as his index finger connected to the call button and it lit up- representing the minute they would spend waiting for it. It was late, almost midnight, and he took pleasure in the mercy that it would come faster than when the building was at full capacity. Bolting up the stairs to his left was now the coward’s option, so he willed himself to do the opposite. He tilted his head to the left. Grasped one arm with the other. Waited.

She was still looking at him, at the side of his face. It didn’t bother him. 

Darcy opened her mouth slightly as if to speak, he heard the soft click of it and turned his head- caught. She let her mouth fall shut, locking eyes with him. Mirroring his smile. He had taken the bait so easily.

Phil suddenly felt very tired. He had been in the desert for a week. With very little sleep. Problems with Saudi arms funds. Had to wipe the memory of a fairly nice looking army private, most assuredly taking a chunk of the kid’s senior year of college out along with the botched mission. Between a memory wipe and binge drinking at parties, that private probably thought he skipped a year all together. 

He had forgotten his mother’s birthday, he just realized. 

He was a nice person, once, and yet life was being particularly cruel to Phil Coulson in this moment. Even the elevator doors sliding open sounded less merciful than he had imagined they would, mere seconds ago. He stepped across the threshold, realizing it essentially became a very cozy interrogation room for the next 3 minutes and that he was already sweating under the light bulb, as it were. Turning to face the operating buttons, he noted that Darcy had not moved. He continued to gaze down at those little round dots, casually, as if surveying his options on a menu. He finally steeled himself and met her eye line.

Green. He could see in his peripheral vision now that it was, indeed, the emerald green skirt. Didn’t matter.

He straightened his spine. Darcy straightened hers with a lopsided smile- the slightest mock. Almost imperceptible. In anyone else in her rank, he would have taken it as a sign of intimidation, of mirroring a superior’s posture to win favor. Groveling. Submission. This wasn’t that. He still could choose to ignore it; just let the doors close on her grinning face.

His hand flew out to stop them, on reflex. She hadn’t even flinched. 

“Are you getting on or not, Agent Lewis?” 

An edge of irritation had crept into his voice, a fact clearly not lost on her as he saw her eyes spark. She smirked and stepped in slowly, as the doors bounced against his hand again. Agent Lewis pivoted on one heel and crossed her arms, stopping halfway and thereby boxing him into the corner, her hip jutting out to one side casually and her chest nearly grazing his arm. He felt her gaze slowly sweep up his body and return to his face. He is aware that his eye crinkles a bit as he ignores it. Just- all of it. He’s above it.

Phil pressed the button for floor 64 twice, an illogical behavior that would bring them to that destination no sooner. He could press it a dozen times and he would still be trapped behind the doors of the elevator with his shield compromised and Darcy looking like an animal in front of its prey. Natasha had been a terrible influence. For a moment he imagines the word ‘schmuck’ scrolling across his forehead.

He clears his throat once and turns to face his opponent, as it were. The elevator jostles them slightly and he notices her sway a little on her heels. She had never before worn this outfit with a black turtleneck. It looked regal, offsetting the deep green of the skirt and... her skin. Usually it was a cream-colored button-up blouse. With a tie at the waist. Sometimes. He didn’t really recall.

“Unless you are just roaming the halls for fun this evening, perhaps you’d also like to select a floor, Ms. Lewis?”

Phil was shooting for an icily disinterested tone and it came across as more peevish than he intended, a clear sign of weakness. He was a little boy with a stick in his hand who was desperately trying to carve a line in the sand, as it eroded. It had become his default around her, of late. But his sudden inability to draw out a response from her had magnified it. He was at the bottom of the sandpit tonight. 

Darcy looked back into his eyes and frowned slightly, as if she were considering something. She reached out next to him to slide her finger slowly up a row. He heard each button click quietly, his every nerve focused on not blinking. She blinked slowly, and tilted her head as she reached out to start on another row and the doors popped open at the first of what would apparently be many stops.

“Damn it, Darcy!” Fuck. He had pulled the pin in his own grenade and would now have to white-knuckle it before it blew up in his face.

He heard the blood thrumming in his eardrums as the doors slid closed once more and her face was all sweet innocence, gazing up at him, close enough to hear him breathing. Peevish Phil. Her little button to push.

Without thinking, his hand flew out to clasp her wrist and twist her thumb up onto the emergency stop reader at the top.

Letting go, he leaned forward into her space. His heart skipped a small beat when she was forced to step back slightly, the thrill of small victories. Grappling for control of a hill when you’ve already lost the war. The elevator bounced to a stop as he braced his left arm against the door, palm spread flat trapping her against it, his nose almost touching hers.

Startled. It was a look he hadn’t seen on her before. She quickly covered it with a lazy smile, as if she had planned it this way. His rattling; her victory. A game she invented moments ago in the hallway, already tweaking the rules in her favor. 

Darcy leaned back completely against the shiny metal doors and huffed. Narrowing her eyes slightly, but never looking away. Her lips were clamped shut and stretched wide, defiantly. The faint beep in the corner reminded him there were eyes watching, always. There would be someone momentarily assessing the nature of the ‘emergency stop’. He tilted his head down and ran the flat of his hand from his forehead down over his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, rubbing his chin.

Darcy giggled. A little, but it was there. A tiny squeak and a pink hue in her cheeks when he looked up.

He brought his hand quickly up near the other side of her face, both arms encircling her now as he leaned onto his forearms and brought his face in close. His cheek just missed hers as he curved his mouth around to her ear, her hair tickling his nose as he spoke. The scent of her shampoo crept into his senses, something warm. He took a beat and suddenly his voice came out in a low whisper. 

“Ms. Lewis, I indulge you because you are well-liked. You amuse people.”

He could feel her swallow against his right ear, soft and hesitant. He took a shuddering breath that he hoped but did not believe she wouldn’t hear. 

“I know you like to toy with me, but I’m asking you... to not. Not with me.”

He felt her go completely still. With one swift motion he pressed away from the door and thumbed across the operations panel to reengage the elevator. He concentrated on the floor as the elevator began to move again, adjusting his cuff and sleeves, his stance wide until he felt the floor hitch to a stop again. One arm shot out in front of him, snaring Darcy around the waist just as the doors she leaned against began to open. 

He looked back up into her face then, searching for a sign of surrender in her inscrutable expression. As he released her she stumbled back into the hallway. She stood there a moment, staring back at him.

Speechless.

The doors closed. And opened again to an empty hallway. And 14 more like it. Plenty of time for Phil to slip the pin back in the grenade that was his usual façade. On the 56th floor an intern started to get on, then looked up at the passenger and stepped back, mumbling an apology. It was something that had mostly stopped happening since he had returned from the dead. ‘From the dead’ echoed in his head as he tiredly closed his eyes and let out a ragged sigh. Perhaps a few extra floors were necessary tonight, after all. 

When he finally stepped off on the 64th he was all calm composure once more. Barely a crease near his eye would indicate his real thought at the moment.

‘Returned to what, exactly?’ 

Also he hadn’t a clue what he came up there for. 

With a heavy sigh, he admitted defeat for the day and quietly pressed the call button to bring the elevator back... to ride down to his office, where he would remove his jacket and sleep at his desk, a penance for his faltering. Peevish Phil’s punishment. A night like many others, he would press his fingers against his temples and begin forgetting how good it feels to sometimes slip up.


	2. Chapter 2

Darcy stood staring at the closed elevator doors for several seconds. 

Then she turned slowly around in a circle, trying to discern which floor she was on. Finally she started walking slowly to the left, turning at a corner to enter the main hallway of whichever floor this was. She passed by some harried looking agent, their sleeves rolled up and tie loosened. Ready to finish their work and head home for the day. The thought occurred to her that she could have just headed home a few minutes ago, grabbed her purse and headed for the garage. But she had spotted him striding down the dim hallway after dropping off her last folder and a Phil was a thing she could not resist.

She drifted over to one of the cushy benches against the wall opposite the huge windows and plunked down gracelessly, staring up at the night sky. It was lit up orange from light pollution, but she pretended she could see a few stars twinkling. Up there somewhere.

She realized suddenly that for all her teasing, poking, and general dumb-assery over the years- it was her stupid split second decision to keep her lip buttoned that had finally broken Phil. She snort-laughed and gripped her sides as she let herself be overcome with a low, silent kind of laughter. It was punctuated by more snorts, as tears rolled out of her eyes and she wiped at them helplessly. The giddy feeling of being tired and confused cycled around until she was just laughing at how hysterically she was laughing- all alone in a hallway. Over what, she wasn’t entirely sure. 

Something about finally keeping her mouth shut. For once.

Her chuckles slowed as she replayed the scene in her head, the stupidity of it. Being an adult. Stalking around these hallways like she has a clue what the fuck she’s doing with her life. Sitting up straighter now, she tugs at the sleeves of her sweater, pulling them over her knuckles in a comforting way that she never does in this building because no one else does. 

And also because she’s not a little kid anymore.

At some point that had become important to her here. She did believe in what they were doing. Helping the Avengers. Keeping people around the world safe. Seriez Biznaz. Agents of S.H.E.I.L.D. had sounded so bad ass when she joined, but really in the long run its just a paper-pushing job. A really cool, really important, sometimes super boring but occasionally way-exciting desk job where you dress and act like a grown-up. And she wanted to be good at it. She wanted her coworkers to respect her. So she hung up the hoodies. Made office buddies. She decided to be not a kid anymore. 

Except for the part where she still sometimes acts like one, because she honestly doesn’t know any better. She had been deluding herself, apparently. Ignoring the pointed looks from coworkers when she had been super chill with a superior. When she had cracked a joke- a really funny joke- and no one but Tony had laughed because apparently it is inappropriate to ask certain superiors if they celebrate ‘Talk like a Pirate’ Day. Still, she says- por qua?

But, truly. Phil had always been her downfall here. He simultaneously was a glimmering perfect thing she admired- a real live adult who made all this look easy- and something she wanted to rip apart at the seams every time she sensed a chink in the armor. 

Every smirk he gave her at a decidedly inappropriate comment about flogging that she had mumbled anyway, because he was in earshot and no one else was and she love to see his ears go ever-so-slightly pink. Every time she had done something fantastically right on a tactical report and his eyes practically twinkled with pride. When his lips twitched with an unspoken joke about Clint’s wardrobe change, and Darcy caught it from across the room. Times he looked so far away when they were in the middle of a conversation and she wished she knew what was way back there in the space behind his eyes. 

Every time she caught him looking at her in a very un-robot-like way and she maybe didn’t need to ask what it meant.

It all just made her want to smash his face in. So to speak.

When Phil had been... gone she barely had to put any effort into being mature. Maybe that’s what adults had, fundamentally- a deep, looming, suffocating sense that death was imminent. That the walls were closing in and their faces were cracking with wrinkles and their joints were grinding slowly to dust and they had to get it all done before their hearts exploded. It was an abstraction that became too real the first time she walked past his office and saw his empty chair.

After that she walked around cracking jokes like always, but not really. They felt hollow, and then she felt hollow. So she stopped screwing around and focused on things that adults find fulfilling, like being good at their PCS reports and funding their 401k. Going home to an empty apartment and chopping up broccoli and chicken to sauté’ in light olive oil even though no one was looking and you could just pour yourself a bowl of cookie crisps and watch Japanese hentai on youtube until you passed out on the couch.

But then he came back. And the first heartbeat after she saw him that day in the hall, when the whispered rumors proved to be true ...it felt like the second the final bell rang to let school out for the summer, and the minute her eyes popped open at dawn on Christmas, and that comatose feeling after eating half a pumpkin of candy on Halloween night. Her poor heart was so jazzed and sick and free, all at once. 

She stood in the hall staring at him that day as he spoke to someone else, unaware of her presence, and felt that hollow adult valley of death inside her fill up with fairy costumes and garbage pail kid cards and tree house slumber parties and the longest day of the summer when you forget where home is and come back muddy and exhausted from pretending to be castaways down at the creek and- FUCK YOU life is for screwing around with each other and ignoring our impending doom! And then he had glanced over at her once and then glanced back and smiled one of his tiny Phil smiles like he had heard her diatribe.

And she thought she could handle it. Like a grown-up. That she could work with this man, decades older than her- literally already dead once- and have that special ‘scoop his eyeballs out and eat them’ feeling without ruining everything. 

They had literally survived battles since they met, like real combat-type situations. Epic, intergalactic wars on different continents. That bitchy lady in HR who Phil is constantly having to placate after she goes too far with the s&m jokes around him.

Hell, in her short life she has officially tazed gods from other universes more times than she has fallen in love.

Almost. It was neck-and-neck there for a minute. 

And then Phil had leaned in real close to her and asked her to give up. Had confirmed simultaneously that the thing she was doing while trying desperately not to do it had so totally happened, and that it was the last thing he needed.

Because he thought she was messing with him. 

Poor stupid, stupid Phil had flipped her heart over and dumped it out like a kiddie pool and had gone right back and filled it up with a tidal wave. And so she had fallen in love with him twice now. Once with her eyes closed and both feet jammed on the brakes, hoping no one would notice. 

And another time- eyes wide open, steering into the skid, flying over a cliff and so totally okay with it.


	3. Chapter 3

Phil sat at his desk staring at an expense report from Clint. For condoms. A lot of condoms. Apparently buying them in bulk from Amazon was going to save SHEILD money, as he had previously been filing this particular expense as individual twelve dollar miscellany on most of his forms. Good to know.

It figures that even when he could get agents to fill out paperwork they took it as an opportunity to be inappropriate. Clint was claiming it as a health supply, which... okay. It was the most information he had received from him ever on anything. The guy had typed less when describing how he blew up a tank with a pen.

He closed the window and initiated an e-signature to approve the entire set. If Banner had expensed a trip to Thailand to study meditation or Natasha had purchased a shrunken head on e-bay, so be it. Phil would take the risk this once. His lunch remained untouched at the edge of his desk, he had barely looked it up when his assistant brought it in an hour ago.

As he reached for the sandwich, Phil heard a soft ping from somewhere below the desk. Nothing alarming, except unidentified electronic sounds within SHEILD headquarters are by their nature suspicious. In the relative security of his office, it was unlikely that it was an explosive, at least. He grimaced slightly and pushed back to look around him, eyes landing on his bottom left desk drawer. Surely not.

But then again, of course. Of course the one private thing in his office had been discovered by someone in the agency. His life was theirs, after all. 

Phil dropped the unwrapped pastrami with a sigh and reached down to jerk the drawer open. On top of the hanging file folders sat an iPhone that had previously been strapped carefully to the underside of the drawer, powered off. He tapped the screen and grimaced as the lock screen popped up. Not only had someone discovered it, but now that it had been activated within the building the agency was probably aware of its existence and by now had accessed his contacts and search history. Which meant they had his mother’s number, info on a few friends from his military days, and some rather embarrassing search results. He immediately felt like a fool for ever believing his position provided him a small sliver of privacy here.

He tapped in the pass code, which had seemed secure when chosen but he now realized that the year Steve was born may have been easy for those close to him to guess. A start screen for some app popped up, one he was sure he had never downloaded. Clearly someone wanted him ‘snap chatting,’ whatever that was.

He tapped the screen twice and let the phone rest on the desk as he stared down at the image that appeared.

It was what looked to be a kneecap with a face drawn on it and someone’s fingers pinching the side so that it scrunched up in a grimace. A lock of dark brown hair had fallen into frame in the right hand corner, confirming its origin. The username ‘taze-her’ was also less than subtle.

He stared down at it for a long moment. Darcy hadn’t appeared in his office in two days and the hallways had been miraculously quiet. Phil realized that the weight twisted up between his shoulders since he lost his temper with her was sliding apart and he sighed softly at the feel of it. She wasn’t angry, he decided.

She also unsurprisingly hadn’t listened to a word he said and was going to continue playing with him as she saw fit, but he found himself strangely glad of it. The night he chastised her, he also spent turning it over in his head as he sat up-right in the very desk-chair he now slumped in. Eyes closed long into the wee hours of the morning, he had repeated in his head what he had whispered and tried to justify it but failed miserably. Darcy’s constant chatter had disappeared and he had panicked and filled the void with more honesty than he was accustomed to showing.

He wouldn’t be so hard on himself for the slip-up except he had seen it coming a long way off. It wasn’t just a momentary lapse in judgment, but an un-tethering of his self-control. Ever since his return, he had been struggling not to admit to himself that his life was not what he wanted. Everyone around him was treating him the same, but something about stepping back for months had made him feel changed. He covered it up, but the longer it went on the more he realized there was no going back.

This Phil made mistakes and lost his temper and was more reckless than anyone would imagine. It hadn’t manifested itself yet, but it was there bubbling under the surface. And Darcy was an agitator, her dance around him suddenly unbearable.

The picture disappeared suddenly. Phil slowly pushed the phone to the side and reached for his sandwich, unwrapping it quickly and pushing aside dark thoughts simultaneously. He stared down at it sadly for a moment, thinking about elevators and stairwells and various indiscreet uses of his time on earth.

Just as he was about to bite into it, he heard another ping. In the corner of his eye he saw the phone brighten with a new photo notification.


	4. Chapter 4

As she swiveled in her chair to face her computer, Darcy had the fleeting concern that she had maaaybe gone too far. She quickly peeled the sticker off of her hot pink blouse, crumpled it and tossed it in the wastebasket.

It wasn’t a thought that she had often but after the other night she was aware for the first time that Phil was not completely immune to her like she had always assumed. She glanced down at her phone, noticing that the second photo had already been viewed. It was of the red nametag she had just removed, which read “Hello my name is: This is Darcy, btw”. Not great at the nonverbal stuff, she noted that the composition wasn’t all that balanced but she thought the message got across. And if a hint of her cleavage made it into the frame, so be it. 

Maybe it had been supremely uncool of her to slink into his office, hack his pass code, and sort of begin to harass him outright. It wasn’t her fault that for a super spy he had hidden his secret phone in a rather pot-head spot she came across months earlier while bored waiting in his office. Tony kept the good stuff under most of his office drawers. Bruce kept little notebooks full of scribbles that no one but him would understand anyway. The phone had been her favorite find, though. She was not surprised to discover he mostly used it to call his mom. And google things like “meaning of life,” “evidence of afterlife,” or “real estate, lake michigan fishing cabins.” And a bunch of sad things like “melanoma signs” and “mid-life crisis.” But also, porn- much to her delight. 

Now as she waited and pretended to get her work done she worried that she had seriously overestimated her own adorableness. Mark from accounting stopped by to clarify something about Natasha’s mission with her and she caught herself surreptitiously tapping her screen, hoping it would notify her that there was a reply. When he walked away 20 minutes later, she tossed the file they were discussing back into the tray and frowned down at the start screen. 

The rest of the afternoon rolled on with the usual data-entry, a planning meeting, a few trips to the break room to refill her coffee cup... and a worsening knot in the pit of her stomach. 

As she rinsed out her mug at 6:47 and tipped it onto the drying rack, she suddenly wished that she had pretended the whole thing never happened and just casually bumped into him in the hall like usual and made polite small talk and respected his boundaries like he asked and never thought about the way his breath felt on her ear. She could be his friend and coworker instead of trying to invade every corner of his life and devour his soul. Or, she could try anyway. 

On her way back to her desk, her heart skipped a beat as she heard a soft ping and noticed her phone brighten slightly where it sat next to her keyboard.

She took a few quick steps over to it and slid her finger across the screen. She frowned slightly as a blur of grey and black appeared. He had butt-snapped her, and not in the good way. About to close the app forever in defeat and try to suppress the furious blush threatening to creep out from under her collar, she suddenly noticed he had changed his user name from the ‘agentPC’ she had typed in that morning to ‘Son of Coul.’ Encouraged, Darcy giggled to herself and grabbed her things to rush out into the hallway headed for the elevators.

A second ping stopped her in her tracks and she looked down to find that Phil had managed to focus in on his earlier subject. It was not an accidental snap of his pants pocket as he tucked his phone away, but rather a piece of paper propped up in his empty desk chair. 

She stretched her fingers across the screen to zoom in on it and read the words he had written; “Too quiet, gone out.” Darcy smiled, but wasn’t sure what to do. Continuing down the hall towards the elevators, she considered typing a quick text to ask where he was headed. Instead, she got off at his floor and nodded to his assistant as she dropped her coat and bag in a chair, and pushed open the door to his office. It was indeed empty and the paper was gone. She rounded the desk thoughtfully and plunked down in his chair. Maybe he had left on a mission, and just wanted her to know there were no hard feelings before he left. She spun around once in his chair and grabbed some of his pens to form a large ‘D’ in the middle of the desk. She smiled to herself and reached out to open a drawer to her right, snaking her hand towards the back where she knew he kept a bag of peanut m&m’s, because she had eaten most of it this morning. Instead her hand found something soft and as she pulled it out she realized it was his tie. 

The phone pinged once more and she picked it up from her lap to find a picture of an open window, with a fire escape outside framing the sun setting over familiar-looking city buildings. In the foreground were two business shoes propped up on a coffee table covered in books and dvd’s. Darcy flew to her feet and a grin broke out across her face.

She snatched up his tie and grabbed her things from outside as his assistant looked on, never quite sure of the protocol since Agent Coulson didn’t seem to reprimand him for letting this one sweep in and out as she pleased.

As she jabbed at the elevator button, Darcy realized that a giddy feeling had replaced the knot-of-dread from earlier in the afternoon.

Phil Coulson was sitting in her apartment.

Two more snaps arrived before she was out of the building. The first was a picture of her from behind, walking down the hallway overlooking the gym inside headquarters. In it, she didn’t have on the pink shirt and black skirt from this afternoon but instead wore an outfit from back in the spring- a sundress with a geometric blue and green pattern that hugged her curves and a pair of cobalt blue sling backs with an iridescent finish that made her pale legs look all glowy. It was definitely a fav of hers. Thinking back to the times she had worn it, Darcy couldn’t remember anything in particular. She scanned the rest of the picture for any significance. No other agents seemed to be in frame and she wasn’t doing anything more than walking and carrying a file folder, no doubt tracking down one of the operatives to needle them into completing something tedious. 

So, this was just a picture of her... sitting on Phil Coulson’s personal phone for a couple of months... no biggie. Another ping and she was looking down at a selfie of a familiar looking mouth, tasting what appeared to be spaghetti sauce off of a wooden spoon hovering over her stove.

Her face felt like it would split in two from smiling as she walked briskly through the garage to her car trying to pull on her coat.

As she cranked the engine, she heard another ping and realized that she could get very used to this whole not-talking thing.


	5. Chapter 5

Darcy turned the key in the lock and pressed the door open slowly, expecting to find Phil in her kitchen with a dishtowel tossed over one shoulder looking all domestic and adorably tries-hard. Instead the apartment was dark, the only light coming from the window, orange streetlight bouncing in softly now that the sun had set. She shivered slightly at the feeling of knowing there was someone in there somewhere, ready to pop out at her. Even if it was Phil. Darcy laughed softly and felt her cheeks burn. Geez, what is she in middle school? Maybe especially if it was Phil. She started to call out, then pursed her lips and stepped through the doorway cautiously. As she shut the door behind her she shrugged off her coat and tossed it and her bag over towards the couch. 

For a long moment she stood in the stillness, trying to hear... something. She knew he was there still, she could feel it. But if he wanted to play, she was game.

She began to whistle in an off-key way as she walked slowly over to the window, her heels clicking on the wooden floor. She leaned out, bracing her hands on the ledge and twisting her head up towards the roof as if she were searching for him. 

She jumped as her television clicked on suddenly and then spun in the opposite direction to find the holder of the remote.

Phil’s silhouette appeared in the entryway of the kitchen, his suit jacket off and sleeves rolled up to the elbows. She smiled and turned to the sound of the television that now bathed the room in a soft blue light. It was the beginning of ‘Milk Money’, one of her favorites. She hesitated for a moment but then looked back to where she could just make out the reflection of his eyes looking back at her, then kicked off her shoes and curled up on one end of the couch. The last snap he sent had been of a bottle of wine and two glasses, which had not been in her apartment when she left this morning, so she was just going to roll with whatever he had planned... for now.

Phil brought out two plates and set them on the now emptied coffee table. He left and came back twice more, laying out napkins and forks silently and lighting a candle pilfered from the bedroom. He finally came and stood over her- waiting for her to tear her eyes away from the movie to look up at him before offering her a glass of wine.

Darcy looked back at him wickedly, feeling a charged spark between them. She reached out slowly for the glass, without looking away. He pulled it back out of reach. She let her hand drop with a huff and then lunged for the other glass, but he was too quick for her. Her mouth twisted in a grin, knowing what he wanted.

“Darcy I haven’t heard you say a word since I accosted you in an elevator... I just broke into your apartment. ... You have nothing to say to me?” It came out in a quiet voice, deeper and than his voice normally was. He was still standing over her and there was a glint in his eye and it felt more like a command- which was one thing Darcy was pretty good at disobeying. He waited a moment, then gently set her glass down on the far side of the table in front of her and took a seat next to her along with a sip of his own wine as if it didn’t bother him.

She tucked her feet under her further and leaned in to bump his shoulder slightly, still pretending to watch the movie but her skin was buzzing. There were literally hundreds of things flying around in her brain since she walked in the door and watching him try to not react to the arguably ridiculous things she said was her favorite thing. Next to winning. Winning was marginally better.

Phil offered his glass to her without looking over. Darcy took a sip and stifled a giggle. 

With one motion she felt the glass slip out of her hands again and his fingers snake into the crease of her folded knees, tugging her legs sideways so she collapsed back against the couch cushions, giggling harder. She heard the glass click as he set it on the table and then he leaned into view, brushing his thumb over her left knee where the smiley face from earlier peaked out from under her skirt.

He let his fingers trail up her side and pulled her feet up over his lap as he leaned down closer, gazing into her eyes in an almost pleading way. “Seriously?” he murmured, “It has been 20 minutes since you walked in that door, and you don’t have anything to say to me?”

Darcy bit her lip, feeling her will power slipping. 

A very tie-less, unbuttoned, muscled Phil slipped his left hand under her hip slowly. He twisted over her, slipping his right hand behind her neck and lowering his lips towards her right ear. She shuddered completely at this and knew he felt it by the way he chuckled in her ear. He was practically wrapped around her now, but they were barely touching. She was having trouble breathing and found her hands floated up to his chest to push him back a bit, only to find her breath catch in her throat at the solid feel of him under her hands. Her fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him forward until his lips touched her ear and his hot breath slid across her neck. 

“Darcy?”

She only scrunched her eyes shut and let out a tiny squeak, wiggling against him.

He hesitated and then pulled back completely, leaving her in a slightly disheveled pile. She sat up slowly, straightening her glasses. Alone. The movie had been paused on an awkward frame of Melanie Griffith making a weird face lying on her back in a treehouse.

Darcy stared at the empty space on the couch and blinked slowly. “This really... BUGS you!” Her voiced echoed off the walls like she had been saving up all of her volume.

She heard the refrigerator door open and shut.

He returned from the kitchen with a large mixing bowl full of salad and placed it in between their plates. His ears were slightly pink and his lips were quirked up at the edges.

“Okay- you won, yes! Darcy can’t function without babbling. But seriously, dude, you have to admit you were the one kind of coming unglued here... what is it, can’t resist my rapier’s wit? Willing to commit a felony to get a whiff of the sparkling top notes that are my verbal assaults?” as she said the last bit her eyes were gleaming, but Phil refused to make eye contact.

He paused before serving the salad onto their plates. No olives- its like he knew.

“Darcy, I... interrogate terrorists. On a regular basis, I take very... bad people and break them.” He pauses and sets down the make-shift salad tongs of two forks, before turning towards her finally. “And in my downtime from that I have the... unique privilege of dealing with some very... talented people. The Avengers are important to me and I have great respect for them, but-“

“They’re kind of little bitches sometimes?”

He laughed a little at this “I was definitely not going to say that.”

“It’s okay- you can say it to me!”

“No, I mean- Darcy! What I’m trying to say is that in my life things are difficult, but not with you.” At this he turned to look at her finally, with a pleading look.

She quirked an eyebrow. “Phil, did you just call me easy?”

He ducked his head and smiled a slow grateful smile. “Yes, actually... kind of.”

She beamed back at him and grabbed her plate, stuffing a mouthful of salad in. “You know... I would so make a good ninja!” 

Phil leaned back easily on the couch, angling towards her and beginning to eat. “I... have no doubt that you would.”

“I’m just saying, women are expected to wear heels in my department- its kind of a thing. And, dude- it is pretty sexist to call someone a geisha. And kind of race-y? I don’t know, I just wouldn’t say it around the HR lady if I were you.”

“Duly noted. I apologize.” He looked up from her then, like he hoped it covered a lot of bases.

“We’re cool- you are feeding the ninja, ...all is forgiven. So, in the midst of your culinary burglary, did you do any good snoopin?”

He snorted at this. “What, pray tell, would I have come across if I had?”

“I don’t know, dude- you tell me.” She grinned devilishly before continuing “Would you have headed straight for the ‘ole medicine cabinet? Underwear drawer? The movies I keep *under* the dvd player?”

Phil’s eyes darted across the room.

Darcy scoffed in mock indignation. “Calm down, they’re old home movies- geez, ya perv! Besides... everyone knows all the good porn comes from the internet!”

Phil stilled for an almost imperceptible moment, a placid smile in place.

Darcy reached over and shoved a cherry tomato into his mouth.

“But I don’t have to tell you that, do I?,” she whispered in faux-seductive tone before cackling as Phil began to cough.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, TWO months later- more chaps!  
> Almost done editing, so the wait will be shorter this time.  
> :)

Chapter 6

Phil feels a hazy paralyzed feeling take over his limbs as Darcy nestles closer to him, tucked up against his arm. A happy buzzing he is unsure what to do with. The empty dinner plates are strewn across the table and they are bathed in the soft glow of The Daily Show. He’s pretty sure that Darcy isn’t watching. Something about the conversation had slowed and then stopped when the movie ended, leaving them sitting quietly until he began to hear a dull roar in his ears. An uncomfortable ringing that has occasionally appeared since his return. A throb from emotion, which meant he heard it rarely.

This was good, here. Her arms wrapped gently around his forearm; a very domestic scene. So soft and liquid and warm.

It was time to go.

“Darce?” he whispers.

He feels a soft twist to the sleeve she is leaning against; her smile against his shoulder. “Phillary?”

“I’m gonna go.” He says this while snaking his left arm from her soft grip.

As he stands and begins to gather their plates, he has a niggling feeling that he can’t bring himself to look at her. She sits motionless on the couch where he left her, propped up on one arm to replace the shoulder she had been leaning on. He feels her look.

Making quick work of loading the dishwasher, the too familiar sensation of someone sneaking up behind him prickles at the back of his neck. Then something unfamiliar; small fingers wrap around his wrist, smooth fabric winds around it as it is tugged firmly behind his back. His pulse quickens despite himself and he sets the glass in his right hand gently into the rack.

He could easily get out of this. Swallowing slowly, he feels his other wrist meet the first and a clumsy knot being formed around it. Cool fingertips brush against the center of his palm and he is chagrined at the slight tremor he feels in his legs.

“You know I could easily get out of this, right?” It was the voice of a coward. The tone he has heard people take many times over; they know all hope is lost and they are royally fucked. 

The knot tightens with no reply. His heart slams in his chest at this, the quiet, that creeping shameful itch he can’t repress. By the time he feels her fingers tug at his belt loop, turning him slowly around, Phil knows there is a deep red flush at his neck. The tie binding both arms behind him is easily twisted out of but the moment their eyes meet again he is overwhelmed with a helpless ache in his chest and he also knows he won’t. It makes him giddy.

Darcy presses both hands on his biceps to guide him back against the counter next to the sink, while regarding him almost timidly, a hot pink blush blooming on her cheeks. Her pupils are blown wider than he has ever seen them and he feels only a flash of panic along with that tell-tale twitch in his stomach.

So very, very fucked. He sees her breath hitch as she steps into him, tongue darting out to dampen her lips, teeth scraping across the lower as it slips back out.

Darcy’s pink lips. Darcy’s soft skin. Darcy. 

Phil groans as his arms unconsciously and unsuccessfully try to reach forward. It makes her smile and him wince.

She hums softly, shrugging one shoulder before leaning forward and resting her palms lightly against his abdomen. Never stilling, sliding slowly upwards as if to soothe an animal and in this moment he realizes that he has lost grip on all but his most animal thoughts. His brain registers just her pulse thrumming there beneath her jaw, her short nails as they skim up and over his shoulders, dipping into his collar, the softness of her breasts as she leans in flush against him; everything achingly slow through a fog of non-thought. His forearms are pressed against the edge of the counter behind him, a blunt precipice that tethers him just barely in his body as he feels himself go hard.

Phil’s eyelids fall shut at the touch of Darcy’s hot breath against his open mouth. He hears that same soft click as she swallows and her lips part.

Nothing.

The air stills as one of her hands curl up and around the nape of his neck, cool fingers stretching out to touch the skin just behind his ear. They are both breathing heavily, quietly, noses almost touching. 

He considers what it would be like to be trapped here against her, forever overwhelmed by her touch, eyes scrunched shut, forever in the moment before.

Darcy presses a single fingertip to the skin between the open lapels of his white shirt, pushes the button between her fingers, trails her finger lower, again. A bubble of a memory breaks through- his own fingers closing these gaps each morning alone since his return. Over and over. At the third button, his heart beating wildly, Phil becomes aware of one slim leg sliding up his calf, a foot hooking behind his knee gently.

He looks up into a waiting gaze and lets the pull of it have him, brushing the tip of her nose with his before brushing his lips against hers.

“Phil,” like a soft wail, “Mmmph..... god, you are such an idiot,” she mumbles against the crush of his lips. Through a grin, surrounded by tiny squeaks he could have never imagined- little high-pitched sounds that praise his teeth nipping at her bottom lip, the press of his mouth opening wider, the touch of his tongue; “Oh god, you’re, so, stupid.”

The weight of his body is held aloft by those two, now trembling, legs braced against that ever-sharpening edge of the counter as Darcy deepens the kiss frantically, lips brushing against his and panting breathy little noises that make him dizzy, and at this point nearly climbing him. 

A long, deep groan rumbles up from his chest.

Not enough. Suddenly with his eyes crushed shut and her lips sliding wetly against his over and over, Phil presses his body forward against hers, a reflex of muscle. He leans away from the counter as Darcy spins on her toes and is pressed backwards against the fridge with a cackle and a clatter of magnets hitting the floor.

He has her trapped now in the dim light of her stove, under the weight of him, this time twisted around him, panting against his neck.

As she gazes up at him, full hearth fires burning behind her brown eyes, she whispers sweetly against his lips “I thought you could get out of this? Like... ‘eeeease’-ily.”

A deep breath through his nose, sighed out against her skin, “...nope. Too stupid.”

“Or maybe I’m just a kick-ass knot maker and you refuse to admit it.” Her eyes were twinkling as she continued, a sudden whisper against his ear, “Did you know... I was a Girl Scout, mon petit Coulson?”

A hand grasps the flesh of her hip as he presses his lips to her neck. A gasp and moan escapes her before she can bite her lip, making him grind against her as she suddenly feels a thumb graze her left breast through her bra.

“Ahjesuschrist! Oh, shit ...Touché.”


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Well, that was fun.

The light was pouring in through the open window when Darcy awoke a sweaty, mess under a small blanket on the couch the next morning. He had carried her there after a few hours of frantic groping, still trembling, burning eyes watching him grab his jacket and keys and walk out some time after midnight, after kissing her on the forehead and whispering a plea for her to ‘Behave at work tomorrow, please.’ Man has balls of steel. Blue ones. ‘We’ll talk later.’ Oh. Yes- we will. She had been too diluted to argue beyond grabbing the tie he had tried to reclaim, too sheepish after all the whispered ‘fuck me’s,’ embarrassingly loud moaning, mumbling to him quietly how she wanted to ‘suck his fat cock’ as she nibbled at his earlobe. He has such luscious earlobes. 

Finding it tucked in the crook of her neck now, she began to let the rumpled silk fabric run through her fingers with a wicked grin.

Her thoughts were suddenly a noisy mess of tongues and gasps and blushes and linoleum and watching the top of Phil’s head as he kissed reverently the tops of her breasts, just above her bra, pink blouse pooled somewhere on the floor there where they left it, an embarrassment of shaky knees, her heels hooked behind his back. Writhing. She’s pretty sure she writhed at one point.

She groans and curls in on herself at the sharp exhausting pain of arousal just at the memory of his hard muscles pressed against her. The hot flush of her cheeks all too familiar after last night. Her body was now screaming at her for all the broken promises his lips left in a trail across her chest, his fingers had swirled up the back of her thigh to the edge of her underwear, his eyes had lit under her skin as he stuttered slightly, whispering her name into the air between them as she squeezed at his ass and began to grind against him. The tiny quirk at the edge of his mouth as he had leaned in for the brusque kiss goodbye, baiting her still. The feeling of the tiny, soft hairs at the back of his neck under her fingers, his bristly stubble under her lips, the giggly awe she felt when he looked down at her after she had ruffled his never-ruffled hair.

The dude kind of knows what he’s doing- she will say that. Or doesn’t actually... know, which is maybe her undoing.

Groaning, groping Phil started her wetness at a seven and drove it excruciatingly slowly to an eleven- under the shirt, over the bra, squarely at second base, middle school-style. What. And then walked out? Abandoning epic horniness like that made her feel all jangle-y and needy and... weak-in-the-knees. Gross.

She conjures up the heady thought of tying Phil’s wrists behind him, staring down at his tight little butt. He had held so still, done as she wished at the lightest touch. Finally, finally leaning in, closing the gap, crashing into her lips. This thought echoed happily tens times over. The moment he gave up and gave up and gave up and she tasted that hot tongue, firm lips. She sat up grinning for him.

What a dumbass. 

Sleep had made her even more restless and unraveled and work today would be next to impossible. She was still grinning, flopped down wriggling around like a kitten before flinging her self off of the couch and grabbing her glasses from the end table before heading towards the bedroom, stripping off her skirt and bra as she went and tossing them in a happy trail to the shower.

Coldcoldcold, mother-fucking cold- until her nipples pinched and her hot skin promised to chill for a minute.

She allows herself enough warmth to rinse her rosemary shampoo out of her hair and apply the thick conditioner that keeps it from spiraling out of control, stomping on the bubbly memory of his grip and tug at the back of her hair as he cradled her head away from the floor, then pulled it back to expose her neck.

An ice water rinse and she was standing in her closet, frustrated and dripping and yanking on black lacy underwear and a soft nude bra, ignoring the feeling of her freshly shaved legs sliding against one another. Still shivering slightly, her fingers stilled at a white shirt and she grabbed it and paused to hold it up, before rolling her eyes and snatching a grey knee-length tulip skirt.

Minutes later, she stood in front of her mirror- dark, damp hair side-parted and drawn into a soft, neat bun at the nape of her neck, deep red lipstick on still swollen lips, adjusting her ‘tie’. His tie, the end tucked into the stiff waist of her skirt, smoothed neatly against her very, very professional white button-up shirt. Complete with the dark frames of her glasses she looked like a real tight-butt prim & proper today. Smirking, she grabbed her workbag and slung it over her shoulder as she slid into those blue sling-backs she tossed over towards the door, popping in matching blue stud earrings and buttoning her cuffs as she turned the locks in the door and began a brisk, float-y strut to work. 

Without a jacket, she felt the crisp, dawn air prickle her skin, mingling with the excitement of impending ‘mischievous Darcy’- always eager to be let out to play, this time fueled by her darker wants. 

It was just before seven and the building was not yet buzzing with work, so she walked calmly up six flights of stairs, burning off the energy brimming in her. Enjoying the quiet of her heels echoing on the stairs, the burn in her muscles. Her Tiger Beat heart was busy floating above her head, rolling around in covers with her favorite lady-boner inducer. Imagining days when she could make him try on her underwear or one of those really ugly Christmas sweaters. Or both. He would blush.

She paused at the designated floor to straighten her skirt and catch her breath, be fore slipping through the door and down the hallway, quietly, to what was secretly her favorite place in the building.

As she swung the door open to the outer office, she cursed between her teeth at the sight of an office minion, straightening out some paperwork mound at Coulson’s assistant’s desk to prep him for the day.

Without breaking her stride, she nodded to her and sailed past, straight into the Phil cave as the peon looked up with a slightly opened mouth but said nothing.

Wait, that worked? Leaving the door ajar, she knows exactly what she’s looking for. Sure enough, she finds his grey suit and clothes hanging neatly in the closet, with Phil upstairs at the gym at his usual ungodly hour. Sweating. 

Her hands roam quickly over all of the pockets before encountering the tell-tale metallic sound of his keys, which are extracted quickly and shoved into the only possible hiding place in her very pocket-less attire, her boobs. As she does this, she turns to the desk and notices that her pen monogram from yesterday has been swept off the desk into a pile at the side, so she quickly slides them into the shape of a heart with a self-satisfied smile. Her shirt re-buttoned and her tie tucked back in place, she saunters back out the door in under 30 seconds, as if her visit had been a mistake.

“Um... hey? Listen,” she walks over to the desk at which the assistant-to-the-assistant stands before continuing in a quieter voice, “um, I was supposed to meet Agent Coulson in his office this morning, but it looks like he’s out. Must have forgotten about it, but it was a follow up about an, um, Avengers security... thing. Kind of a BFD, if you know what I mean.” She leans across the desk to the uninterested looking blonde who has deigned to stop shuffling papers long enough to hear her out. “...Anyway, I would hate for him to miss the brief on this, so if you could just tell me if he has any important... meetings today, like ones I really should not interrupt, I could just pick another time to come... bore him with it.” At this she adds a facetiously conspiratorial wink to the woman, who pauses before uttering a curt “Of course,” before turning to the keyboard and calling up the itinerary like a good little peon.

“Uh, well- Looks like there is an early lunch with some top brass from NYPD, and then a meeting with two... Avengers agents, actually, and Nick Fury of course, at 4pm.” She looks up suddenly with a quizzical look, and Darcy knows the end of the jig when she sees it.

“Right! Right, well, you know... only a mid-level liaison to them so... they keep me on a ‘need to know,’ you know how that is!” 

At this, she backs quickly towards the door and turns to make her exit- only to crash into the familiar face of Phil’s actual assistant, Bryce.

She squeaks out a sheepish “”Suuuup, man?” before slipping around the corner out of sight.

The assistant pauses in the doorway for a moment before turning back to the minion and asking “And what was it that one wanted this early in the morning?”

“Um... Agent Coulson?”

He snort-laughed and closed the door behind him, muttering only “You can say that again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a monster and started something else, but I promise I will dig out the last chapters of this and post soon!


End file.
